


City Bird

by catmiint



Category: Pretend Wizards D&D Campaign
Genre: Episode 191—I See You, Gen, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Introspection, Near Death Experiences, No Dialogue, Suicidal Ideation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-23
Updated: 2018-03-23
Packaged: 2019-04-06 17:29:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14061852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catmiint/pseuds/catmiint
Summary: Shira Snow was no stranger to death.





	City Bird

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this written since episode 191 came out and only am just now posting it lol

 

* * *

 

Shira Snow was no stranger to death. 

 

It hung over her always, draped on shoulders like the cloak she rarely did without. Sometimes when she pulled her hood up to slip into stealth she imagined the cloud of death pressing down heavier—a desperate pressure that needed release. 

 

Death followed her since the murder of her parents. It was a watchful companion, her own shadow ready to comfort her. The idea that one day it might take her too relieved her in the dead of night when she woke screaming and sweating at a memory burned into her. She recalled the death of her parents all too keenly in her dreams. Blood and sweat and terror. And so she whispered to herself, a comforting song of inevitability. 

 

After all, once she avenged her parents and uncovered the truth there would be nothing tying her to this existence. So she had thought, sneaking into Mortimer Crim's house. That pretty lie soon shattered and pained her with the truth—her sister was missing, and her parents' killers were a powerful monolith. 

 

And soon budding bonds of loyalty began to tug at her. It made her skin crawl to have those thoughts cross her mind. The flashes of concern, the ghosts of smiles, fingers yearning to reach out and grasp at comfort. 

 

Shira still longed to hold death's hand like she might a lover, but now she was torn. There were ties to this world—responsibilities. So, she said nothing to her companions about the dark shadow pressing on her, or how its hands gripped her and choked her with desire. 

 

She saw it in their eyes sometimes, particularly Ragna and Dweezil. They saw more than they let on. They saw how she threw herself into the heat of battle, and how her lithe body emerged more bruised and battered than anyone else. She suspected Crispin told Ragna about how she broke her arm at Doctor Senger's lab, since the next morning he scanned her over with his brow tight (not that he caught anything. Nettles was good at patching up the tears and breaks that riddled her body, not always caused by an enemy). 

 

The words hung heavy between them. She never spoke about herself and rarely spoke at all. It was only when she butted heads with others in the group that she really spoke up. Other than that, she hardly strung together two sentences to them. 

 

Never before had death hung so heavy on her as when that dagger pierced her chest as she ran across the bridge of Smugglers' Cove. The pain blossomed outwards, a rose blooming straight through her heart and its thorns tearing at every inch of her insides. She had hit her head as her legs collapsed under her, and only came to minutes later under the hassling of Pegasus and Dweezil. 

 

The first thing Shira registered when she awakened was how fiercely the flat of her chest burned. Her breathe came out in panicked wheezes, thinking she would be conscious to feel the life bleed from her body. The panic subsided when she realized that Pegasus must have performed CPR while the other sewed her wounds shut. The pain was not her bleeding out, it was the burn of broken ribs. 

 

Only once before had she broken a rib. 

 

Shira had fallen from a tree in the garden while trying to teach Moira to climb. Moira, scarcely 8, had wailed until their mother came running. Mother had picked Shira up in her arms gently and rushed her to the family physician. Later when the physician bandaged her chest, her mother had kissed her on the forehead and whispered sweet comfort to her. The burn in her chest would be a healing pain, her mother had told her. That kind of pain reminded you that you were alive. 

 

Shira blinked away the memory has Dweezil shook her shoulders roughly and pulled her from the ground. His words still tangled in her ears, the throbbing bump on the back of her head consuming her focus. He huffed in frustration and shook his head, turning away and dragging Shira behind him. 

 

Glancing back, she saw the floating eye above Smugglers' Cove, and she saw Ragna flying towards them at an alarming speed. Sapphire seemed to had just finished casting a spell, the newest fairy gift pinned to her bag (she had no cloak to use the broach for) was glowing and there was a cloud of residual magic and static hanging around the warforged. Shira glanced away uncomfortably and tried to focus on her stumbling steps. 

 

The pain of her injuries was wrapped around her, nearly suffocating in its intensity. Everything in her body screamed. Her breath coming out in a low wheeze and and the tug of stitches at her skin. Blood, sticky and thick, clinging to the leather of her armor. 

 

This pain reminded her that she was alive. 


End file.
